In the Town of Karakura
by yin13147
Summary: AU. Ichigo is sent to be a protege under Byakuya who is famous for his crimson paintings. Meanwhile, there has been a case of a few missing people, and each time Byakuya makes a new portrait a person disappears...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p>"All done."<p>

That was the first thing he said in seven restless hours of painting. His eyes gazed at the portrait he just finished. This time he used the shade of lustful red blended with auburn red to highlight the drawing of a fierce-looking warrior training by swinging his sword with such speed that it left several cuts in the air.

His hand traced the pencil linings with so much delicacy like the painting was so fragile it could be ruined with a forceful touch. While caressing the drawing lightly, he muttered one name and in response the wind howled even louder that it reached inside the house and spoke to him.

As a reply, he shed one tear but he was unaware of the crystal drop flowing down his cheek for he was too taken in by his creation.

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><p>"Great.. first my snack got stolen by some brats and now I'm lost in this large town. How lucky I am today." Ichigo mumbled while wandering endlessly in Karakura Town.<p>

Ichigo was a man who always had a penchant to draw and paint since he was a kid. In fact, he was good at his first try and soon he became recognized in his hometown of Rukongai for his talent in art.

And a few days ago, he participated in an art contest and obviously, he won. As the judges were amazed by his work, they suggested he should become a protege of Byakuya Kuchiki, a well-known artist that he heard of a few times so that he would make his skills even better. He happily accepted the offer but he had never been in a town as large as Karakura and before he knew it he got lost.

"Hey, are you Ichigo Kurosaki?" He turned around and saw a small boy with white hair and dark green eyes. "Yeah. Why?"

"That's a relief. You're orange hair stands out a lot, making it easy for me to find you." The boy sighed as he rubbed his head. "Huh?"

"Oh, my apologies." He immediately straightened his body and bowed his head like a loyal servant, in which he is. "I am Toshiro Hitsugaya, a servant of Master Kuchiki. I'll lead you to his house."

"_So formal..._" Was all Ichigo could think as Toshiro introduced himself but he clearly heard what he just said. "Well that's a relief for me as well. I was already losing my sense of direction in this town."

The younger teen's face remained emotionless like a servant would usually show and started to walk past the crowd with ease thanks to his small height (which he is not so proud of). Ichigo just followed him like a puppy. In a while Toshiro stopped in front of a gate and Ichigo was surprised at the quiet large house. The size of course would never be as large as the White House, but still, the size was huge compared to the decent-sized houses in Rukongai.

Toshiro took out a small key and twisted the lock binding the two gates together and after a click they opened like wings spreading out and both went inside. The place was so quiet that both could hear the wind and their own firm footsteps. But the orange head paid attention to the wind more than the sound his feet made.

The wind was whispering to him, he could feel the cold voice but he couldn't know what it was saying. He was unaware that the wind had not only a cold voice, but a mysterious and ominous voice as well.

_Kill._

_Kill. _

_Kill!_

_KILL!_

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong>AN: As I'll be busy with the other stories, the chapters will be short like up to 1,500 words max so I can publish it faster. Since this is the prologue, this will be short since I want to publish it already.  
><strong>

**I'm not that good at horror, so bear with me.  
><strong>

**Reviews and constructive criticism are extremely welcome. Just absolutely no flaming.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p><em>A body crawled as far as he could. The slow but loud sounds made by feet of the person behind him terrified him that it drove him to move faster but his deeply cut legs started to grow heavier. Soon he stopped moving when he couldn't feel his legs anymore, but the young boy's voice continued making fear-filled whimpers.<em>

_Bright eyes full of the want to kill enhanced by the moonlight looked at him, and he screamed when a blade angled at him. The hoarse cry faded away when blade met soft, innocent flesh._

_The poor victim's blood flowed in all directions, and after a minute of finger-painting on the ground killer silently dragged the corpse away into the darkness, with no one to see the horrible event happen under the deadly crescent moon.  
><em>

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><p>"It happened again, did it?" A worried teenage girl spoke to her friends as they drank tea in a low-profile cafe. "Yeah, another person suddenly disappearing in the night."<p>

"Though cases of strange and unexpected disappearances of people are common, this one is kind of creepy." A shudder followed the words of a young man as his face showed slight fear and anxiety. "What makes it creepy?" another asked.

"The only thing they see is the victim's blood used to draw a camellia. Maybe it's revenge or a cult. That's why it is creepy. If you don't believe me, my dad is one of the officers and I took one of his pictures of the scene." He fiddled in his pocket and took out a photo the size of a bond paper, showing the image to them and they gasped.

"I wish that it would come to an end."

Conversations like that rang around the streets for the whole day, the same day that Ichigo went to Karakura Town which was also five days after the recent murder happened.

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><p>Ichigo was busy drafting the trees around him as Toshiro's index finger pressed the doorbell twice until a voice answered at the speaker. "<em>Who is it?<em>"

"It's Hitsugaya, and Ichigo Kurosaki is with me." The door automatically opened after the polite reply and Ichigo put his sketch pad back in his luggage as both of them went in.

While following the smaller teen, his eyes looked at the several frames hanging at the walls, full of different things either abstract or real things but all are with the color of red in its many shades. Just from looking at the masterpieces, he could tell that this artist who will be his teacher is surely an exceptional painter slash artist, and that he himself has still a lot to learn.

Though the pictures resembled beauty, serenity and power, he could sense a tint of sadness in all the paintings. The thought was enough to make him daze off into a state of deep thinking, but Toshiro's call immediately brought him back to his senses.

"I'll introduce you to the master. Please present yourself to him formally."

When a sigh from Ichigo was received, Toshiro walked closer to the orange head and whispered, "He doesn't like it when people act rudely towards him, so be careful in your actions and words." He shrugged his shoulders as a yes and the silverette opened the door to let Ichigo enter.

His sienna eyes immediately took picture of a beautiful man with long night black hair, gunmetal eyes, pale apricot skin and a tall and firm figure. So beautiful, so intriguing, like he was a painted man made into a real man, with an aura of law and balance, it was enough to intimidate Ichigo and make his lower legs fall to the hardwood floor. His head also hung down like a huge weight was suddenly put on his head, for the man was so intimidatingly enchanting.

"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki. I look forward to be taught by you from here on."

Byakuya merely nodded to return the respect showered at him, and the whole day passed as peaceful as possible. The wind started to whisper the same words again... _kill_. And at the same time, Byakuya looked sat up on his bed, looking longingly at a vase which supported a single camellia of the darkest crimson.

It looked like it was about to wilt, so he stood up and washed the plant with a little of water. He patted the petals carefully, making sure that the flower stayed fresh and alive for the next few minutes before going back to sleep.

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong>AN:**** Reviews and constructive criticism are extremely welcome. Just absolutely no flaming.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p><em>They walked around a field of many flowers. But one of those two ran to a bush of camellias and the child saw one camellia stand out among the others due to its crimson color. It immediately got the youngster's interest.<br>_

_"Hey, I found a camellia. And it's red."_

_"A red camellia? That's rare here. Usually, all what I see are white or beige camellias."_

_"Well, that's why this flower is special."_

_"Now, why would a boy like you, like a girly flower like that?" _

_"I don't know. Every time I see camellias, I can't help but love the sight of them. Here, it's yours. I hope it'll get you to like it, since you only like the sakura. Get yourself to like something else."_

_"You're strange. As wild and stubborn as you are, you still adore these. The color of these petals, as dark and pure as blood, it matches you..."  
><em>

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><p>"Kurosaki, wake up." The same words repeated thrice until Ichigo's eyes flew open.<p>

"What, is it time for my first lesson?" He mumbled with a lazy tone, his body sitting up. "No, that's still tomorrow. It is already seven in the morning, and the master is expecting that everybody in the household, including you, to be punctual no matter what."

"He's an artist and yet he's acting like this is a prison and he's the warden..." From that comment he got light spank on the back of his head by Toshiro, whose eyes narrowed into a glare. "Whether in his presence or not in his presence, never talk bad of him or make comments about him that can be counted as an insult."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and got up, ignoring Toshiro's icy glare as he headed for the shower room. The silverette's hard gaze softened and he shrugged his shoulders with a sigh before getting up and folding the blankets followed by fluffing the pillows.

"Soon, he'll know about the 'red camellias'... and he should be prepared for that." He thought as he left the orange head's room, heading for the kitchen to cook breakfast.

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><p>Water washed his whole body, cleansing him of all dirt. When he felt clean enough, he turned off the shower and changed into the dark gray kimono folded beside the clothes he wore yesterday. Before he left the bathroom, he took one last look at the walls, which have pattern designs of an endless branch blossoming red camellias.<p>

"_Red camellias are pretty rare here, but it does look beautiful. I also like red camellias._" That was what he thought when he left, following the smell of porridge to the dining room. When he sat down, Byakuya appeared and sat down at the other chair.

Ichigo greeted a good morning, but Byakuya just nodded like before. From that, he could tell that his teacher is a quiet and reserved person. And that was odd, for how would they expect a man who rarely speaks to be able to teach him.

Nonetheless, he ate in silence, and saw that the bowls have the same pattern of the red camellias. "_I guess this is also his favorite. That's one thing I have in common with him._"

Later, when breakfast was over, Ichigo picked up the newspaper at the doorstep when he set out for some fresh air. He read the large letters that told of a massacre that has been going for a long while now but the killer is not found along with the victims. Immediately he dropped it down where he picked it up and went to the trees to enjoy the nature breeze.

_Red camellias are so red like blood. Blood..._

Strangely, Ichigo's eyes went blank and laughed hysterically which was unlikely of himself, but the only ones that could hear him was the strong wind and the still trees.

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong>AN: The story will be slow-paced, and I hope you're fine with that. It's better than rushing things and ruining the whole story. **


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p><em>"No... hold on..." It was a bitter sight.<em>

_"Sorry... I can't hold out much longer."_

_"I..." It was difficult to share his last words, and all what he could say was 'I'._

_"You don't need to say it. Me too... and please..." And nothing more. Anything that he could hear was the thud of an arm, and for the first time his eyes could do such a thing like shedding tears. "No..." He couldn't shout or scream or make a sound. He sobbed quietly while his head tilted down and he touched the hand that was once warm and soft._

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><p>"Alright, today's the day." Ichigo sighed quietly with excitement as he left the bed five minutes before seven. He was now thrilled for his first lesson, and is also eager to know if Byakuya is really a good teacher.<p>

While walking to the art room where he will be taught his lessons, as Toshiro told him, he saw more pictures but they were painted with the same color, red. From the skill in the shading, blending, and the drawings, the consistency is using red would never become tedious, he thought. But he was curious to why Byakuya would be obsessed with such a color that had many meanings.

Anger. Love. Passion.

Murder. Fire. Danger.

Strength. Power. Determination.

Which among those meanings inspired him to use red as his trademark color in his paintings? He wanted to know.

But he kept quiet about it as he stepped in the room, immediately sitting on the small pillow laid out in front of him with a plate of heated cheese bread. He took another note to self that his teacher is not just punctual, but also early than the exact time.

He stopped painting at the sight of his student, who looked prepared and already stuffed as the bread was finished in a minute.

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><p>Byakuya looked at his student once in a while to see if he is really paying attention as he demonstrated to the orange head how he would apply the paintings and mix them to form a natural-looking blend. This time, he makes an exception by using different colors but red is still the main color in the painting.<p>

He was relieved that his student was a trustworthy one and was really passionate about the arts, for his honey eyes were absorbing what they were seeing and his ears were open to every word that he said.

In an hour, it was over. Ichigo didn't lose one bit of his energy at all, Byakuya could see that from the invisible and scorching flame around the boy as he still looked like he wanted more but he said nothing more than a thank you.

Before he left, he called out for the young teen. It was an unexpected thought that he'd get, and he wasn't the type of person to chat, but...

"Kurosaki, before you can go back to your room and do what you like, would it be okay if you take a walk with me to the gardens first?"

Of course, as a student, both had to get to know each other personally even just a little bit. But he knew he wouldn't be telling the boy _everything_, he is not even sure if he can stand that part of him that only he and his trusted servant know.

Ichigo agreed with a nod, not suspecting anything. Nothing at all...

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong>AN: Like I said, the pace of the story is slow but it's better than being fast. I'm busy with the other stories, you know. Until next chapter!  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p><em>A killer stood in front of the group of men. Blood was flowing from their wounds, and the assassin held a knife all red from driving through their rotten flesh. "Where is he?" Yanking a man's up, he hissed with his knife prodding the sensitive skin just below the head.<em>

_"If you don't tell me, you'll know what will be coming for you." The edge began to draw out small drops of blood that the man screamed, fearing for his life. "We don't know. He always changes his location often. Right now, I believe he is at Sakurabashi."_

_A satisfied smile formed on the assassin's lips. "Thank you. Now, rest well." The boy muttered before slitting all their throats, dragging all their bodies to somewhere unknown. What was left behind is an actual camellia that was once white and now red from their blood._

Sometimes it would be a drawing of a camellia from blood, or a blood-soaked white camellia. The killings were increasing and increasing, and people become more and more afraid.

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><p>Standing in the garden, they silently enjoyed the harmony of the different-colored flowers swaying back and forth from the wind.<p>

They said nothing for a while, listening to the melody of the wind's whispers. "Is red... your favorite color?" Ichigo questioned, his gaze turning to the lone sakura tree that continues to bloom with its pinkish flowers. "One of my favorite colors, precisely. There is also pink, black, white, and blue. What _is_ or what _are_ your favorite colors?"

"The same as yours, but there is also orange." That's another thing they have in common aside from favoring the camellias. What else? He had a few students before, but this one was different. "How long have you being doing arts?"

"For as long as I can remember, even when I was no more than a toddler." Ichigo replied, walking towards a stone bench just right in front of the sakura tree and sitting down. Byakuya did the same, but kept his distance from the boy. "I see..."

He followed Ichigo's solemn gaze to a field of camellias. "That's my favorite flower. Back when I was still in Rukongai, my mother would always walk with me to the park where a lot of camellias bloom and fly in the wind." He told the raven head.

Byakuya remembered that time when he was also in the flower fields in Karakura Town, watching everyone of them dance. "Is she doing well right now?" Slipped out his tongue, as a he gently caught a flying windflower with the color purple.

He received no answer, and saw Ichigo looking away as if he doesn't want to show him this face. Then he looked back at him, his eyes showing a hint of bitterness. Byakuya immediately caught the message. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know anyway. I know she passed away, but I forgot how she died. I was there with her in the rain going back home, then my vision went black and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital. The doctors said I was actually conscious before I arrived here, so I might have seen how she died but most likely, the shock made me forget."

A hand softly patted his back once, and he nodded his head. His teacher may be quiet and may seem a little cold, but he is a nice person. He nodded his head as thanks, and plucked one rose which the older man didn't mind.

"Do you ever take a few once in a while, to eat or to store in a vase?"

"I never thought about doing that. I always think of this as a place for sightseeing." He was almost ready to chuckle at himself not at ridicule but from surprise. He wasn't really one who would chat much even about the few basic personal stuff, so why is he opening to this boy more than he intended to?

Maybe it was because both experienced a great tragedy of losing their loved one, both under the rain. He had to consider Ichigo a little lucky to forget how it exactly played out, to how he lost his mother.

He himself remembered very clearly how he lost his own beloved and no matter how much he tried to lock it away, it would come back and haunt him everyday.

Then when a unique whistle echoed in the area, he grew alert but before he left, he gave thanks to Ichigo in a soft tone. A tone that he rarely used. Then he walked upstairs, and in front of the door of his room, is a youth clothed almost everywhere save for eyes bowing before him.

"Any results?" He asked, sounding authoritative and demanding unlike just a while ago.

"Just one. _He_ is said to be at Sakurabashi. But I'm not sure, for he is said to be changing his locations very often."

"You've done well. Now go to rest, Hitsugaya. When we have found _him_, you can take care of the rest, but I will deal with him and make him pay. Do you understand?"

The said boy removed his cloak that hid his simple green kimono. "Yes, my Master." Master and servant that's what both are. But at a deeper level than any other pair of those two standings.

Before Byakuya entered in his room to either draw or rest, Toshiro asked, "How is it going with Kurosaki?"There was a pause. "I can say he is a good student, and we are getting along. But there will be the time..."

"...When he will know about the red camellias." The silverette finished for him, answered by an affirmative nod before the door closed. Just as the boy saw Ichigo walking around the house with an aura of innocence, green eyes glared at him.

**To be continued...**


	6. Background Story: Spoiler!

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p>Ever since Byakuya was little, he had been friends with a red-haired man named Renji. They occasionally go to the flower fields, and even though they were good friends, they had little to nothing in common. He wasn't that much of a fan of flowers with the exception of cherry blossoms, but Renji was the opposite despite his fiery personality.<p>

Then one day, Renji noticed a bush of camellias and fancied himself with it. When he gave a red camellia, which is rare in Karakura, to Byakuya, the latter quickly fell in love with him.

Red, flowing hair; fierce eyes, a flawless face, a firm but slender body, every part of him he fell in love with. Soon, in a few years, they engaged in a forbidden relationship even though both were in an arranged marriage with somebody else.

They did their best to keep their relationship a secret. Even though Byakuya was a passive person, he knew that his feelings for Renji are absolutely real. The day before Byakuya was to be called to his fiancee's house for both of them to meet, Renji asked if he could go with him to the flower fields, even if it was raining hard.

He agreed, and for the whole time their hands never disconnected. Their fingers remained intertwined. But neither said so much to each other. Their mood at that day matched the sad rain. But then, all of a sudden, a bunch of men cornered them and separated them. The leader held a hook, and his eyes were full of lust at the sight of Byakuya's drenched body.

Brutally and mercilessly, he stripped the raven head off his clothes and raped him on the spot. No one else was there because of the weather. Renji was restrained that he couldn't make a move and his eyes were forced open by the men so he wouldn't miss one second of the scene.

All the time, Byakuya cried to Renji for help, something he never did. He knew it was useless, but it was better than making pathetic and cowardly cries of resistance. Then when Renji caught Byakuya shedding tears for the first time, making sobbing sounds as he was continuously tortured, the redhead flew into a great rage and pushed the men who held him down into the strong rapids.

In retaliation, he was murdered by the man who ran away with his remaining comrades, and he shared his last moments with Byakuya. Both could not say the words I love you, they were afraid of saying their final goodbyes out loud. They shared one deep kiss, and tried to say their farewell but none succeeded.

That was when Byakuya closed his heart to many except for his trusted servant. The marriage was canceled, and he resigned himself to being an artist.

He vowed revenge on the man. He could remember a face full of scars, evil eyes, and the tattoo of a scythe clashing with a hook on his neck. After a little research, they found out that the man was a serial killer called the Grand Fisher, who is also the leader of a famous gang.

But over the time, the killer resigned and just handled the gang, who became part of the crime underworld and now he's a rich man. He changed his identity. That information they got from one of his cronies who Toshiro murdered after extracting that info.

For years, both have been trying to track him down but he was an extremely difficult target.

Now they're a step closer. In the last few years they killed some of his thousand men, and would cover it up with the crime that left the drawing of a red camellia. As if their kill was of the same crime, but instead dyed a camellia red with their blood for their own touch, and to call out to the Grand Fisher.

Byakuya couldn't wait to have his blood splattered all over, and give him ten times the pain that were brought upon him and Renji.

May Renji rest in peace, he wished every night. The camellia, the one that awakened his feelings for the man, was still alive and well, he'd care for it every night. When it would try to die, he would give it life again. He doesn't want to lose what is left of the man he loves.

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><p><em>"Is he alright?"<em>

_"I don't know. Since that tragedy, he couldn't sleep and does nothing but scream and destroy anything. He is becoming a monster."_

_"Is there anyway we can subdue him?"_

_"There is. But it will make him forget a lot of his memories. Are you okay with that?"_

_"Go ahead. I'd prefer that to this. I can't see my own son go completely insane." Isshin answered solemnly, watching a young Ichigo bound to a chair with strong ropes on every part of his body save for the head. His feet are dipped in water that has been zapped a few times when he would go bonkers. His mouth is tied tightly with a wet towel, stretching his cheeks and he tried many times to cut the cloth with his teeth but failed._

_Isshin couldn't blame the doctors for this torture, no matter how painful it was to watch. Who knows what would happen if they didn't give him enough pain to be unconscious even for just an hour? Someone could have died._

_Died._

_That was how much of a horror his son became after Masaki's death. A deep slash that no doctor could heal. She seemed impossible to save. Ichigo couldn't do anything but try to keep her awake for a few minutes so she could share her last words with her. And she was gone in the face of the earth._

_Her death caused his slow descent into the madness, seen through his unlikely acts of violence. It wasn't bad at first, but it gets worse everyday. His sisters cried, trying to get him back to his senses, but he pushed them away. Though he didn't hurt them, he would never do when a kid mocked him at school, he was beaten so badly by Ichigo that he made the decision to get him to the doctors._

_The mental and emotional damage was too much. Many doctors gave up in trying to heal him, except for one. Urahara, his long-time friend is the only one who stayed and stood by his side, doing everything to get Ichigo back. Pain won't do._

_"I tried to use this on him before, but when I told him about it wiping most of his memories, he went berserk again. It seemed that he didn't want to forget anything. But it would be better for him, don't you agree?"_

_"Yeah. You could have told me earlier, but taking care of him in this state must have made you nearly forget about that. Go ahead. But be sneaky. He might notice you." Urahara did so, silent like a snake going for its prey oblivious to the danger around him._

_Ichigo was screaming and making angry noises even if his mouth was tied. Feeling something sharp pierce in an area between his neck and shoulder, he struggled violently but it was too late. All the serum was injected in his system and he blacked out in a couple of seconds._

The next few days, he was well. Like the innocent child he was before, everything was peaceful again. They lied, telling him her mother died from an aneurysm. That made him sad, but not insane. He returned to painting, and would go to other small towns.

But, little do they know, that his evil side wasn't gone. Just asleep from the drug and would once in a while take over when Ichigo's asleep, then killing any soul he'd see who is late out at night. His mother loved red camellias, and so did he. So his other self made it a 'playful habit' by drawing the same flower with the dead one's blood and take it away, somewhere where it would not be found.

Feed it to the wild dogs and burn any remains. That's what he always does, so no one can find the body and track him.

Every time he'd travel to another small town for art contests, it would happen once or twice and he would appear innocent and unaware. Because he really is innocent and unaware of himself, his evil side emerging and killing people. His psychotic self may be murderous, but he's smart enough to cover everything up from everyone else, even himself.

**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p>"You're done with the blending?" Today, it was time to teach Ichigo the way he would paint. "A little more." He always knew about blending but it turned out that he lacked a little more lessons to master that art.<p>

When he was finished, he showed it. "I hope this is good." "It is. You're improving by the day." Ichigo rolled the painting and closed all the paint to none would fall and spill. "Do you dream of becoming a painter?" he asked. He wanted another conversation like that with his student again, maybe because this one impressed him the most.

"Who knows. I've been too focused in practicing in what I'm good at, but I can't say if becoming a painter is what I really want to be. But I do know that I want to master what I can before I start work."

"It is normal for someone at your age to think like that." He stood up and approached Ichigo, his fingers tracing the outline of face. The orange head didn't know what he's doing, but he couldn't ask nor could he sweat and gulp.

"You're innocent, even your eyes say that, but you're still mysterious to me. Like you have a secret that you don't even know yourself." Their lips are not so far to each other, but Byakuya didn't move forward and merely examined his student's face.

"People can be an enigma, even to themselves." Ichigo replied, quite innocent of the situation. He moved away but not in a rude and forceful manner. "Is it okay if I can go out?" he asked, wanting to buy some paint.

"You're not my student, not my prisoner." he replied stoically, which meant a yes and Ichigo quickly ran out. For one second, behind him, the raven head thought for a moment that the person in front of him was Renji, shining with the same fiery aura that the teen also possessed.

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><p>"This, and this, and this, and this..." Ichigo said while pointing at a different colors. "Okay here you go. That goes for four silver pieces." He paid the said price with the exact amount, and before leaving he caught sight of the vendor reading a newspaper.<p>

Like the one before, the topic in the front page is about the unsolved massacre. "Umm... excuse me? Why is that news about the massacre always on the front page?"

"You don't know about this?" the vendor asked in disbelief. Ichigo shook his head. "This has been going on for a few years now, but the culprit is still not yet found." Kindly, he gave the paper to him and he quickly read the whole page, his eyes darting back and forth while receiving as much information as he can.

Ichigo scanned over the thousand words below the title again and again. Something told him that he needed to know about it. But he didn't need to look at everything. All what he needed were the words 'painting of a red camellia from the victim's blood', and the date itself. His stomach twisted that he gulped down the vomit that he wanted to let out.

"It can't be..." At each painting that Byakuya would make, there is a small bronze tag at the bottom of the frame that would state the title of the painting and when was it finished. Though he never remembered the dates, he wanted to know. It seemed strange and almost impossible, but something was always odd about the house he lives in and the people there.

With swift hands he gave the newspaper back to the vendor and carrying the bag of what he bought, ran back to the mansion while passing through the crowds like a snake safely making its way through a narrow tunnel.

He wanted to look for Toshiro, as he knew that his teacher is busy and that white-haired servant would tell him instead. He's not in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom or anywhere in the house. He almost ran out of breath. He needed to know for once he suspects something, he gets the need to confirm it right away.

There is only one other place where he could be. His feet ran for the garden and opened the door. He immediately heard snip-snap sounds, and saw Toshiro pruning the roses while keeping his fingers safe from the thorns.

Toshiro continued cutting each rose after rose, leaving only the stems so they would grow more roses again. "So what do you want, Kurosaki? Dinner is still two hours ahead." he asked without keeping his eyes away from the flowers.

"Sorry to bother you, but do you keep old newspapers?" One last snip reached his ears before Toshiro stopped what he's currently doing. "We throw them away every time. I'm sorry." Finally, his head turned to his right. "Why do you want to read them?" Ichigo didn't notice the strange narrowing of the servant's eyes.

"To catch up with a few events I may have missed."

"Ask my Master. I may be in charge to take care of the house, but what can one know?"

"Alright. Thanks and go back with killing the flowers." Toshiro glared at him again like before. "I'm pruning them, you idiot. Looks like you don't know a thing about gardening." Ichigo didn't mind the fact that he's called an idiot for he's been used to it though it's only been a week.

Ichigo left the garden and looked room after room that's illuminated by nothing but candlelight though none have a silhouette. Only did he find one at the corner, but even before he could go in, he noticed a vague scent of blood.

**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, I would make it into a ... *mumbles*.**

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><p>The door slid open so fast that it was so loud and Byakuya held his hand, his paintbrush on the floor and his fingers bleeding. There was no first aid kit in the room, and Ichigo set his suspicions aside for now to disinfect the wound.<p>

He tried looking for disinfectants at the shelves, but the raven head shook his head to tell the teen that there was none, and more blood dripped out so Ichigo quickly plunged the wounded fingers in his mouth, licking the blood away with his tongue.

Blood was supposed to taste like metal, but it his didn't taste anything like that. It tasted unique; not sweet, sour, salty nor bitter but it was so delectable, and his tongue snaked all over the digits to extract more blood for him to drink.

It was odd for his student to do that but his cheeks turned as red as his own blood and he let him go on, but he let go when he felt something thick and sharp nip at his skin. He withdrew his saliva-coated fingers, and somehow he didn't want to wipe it off.

"Snap out of it." He wanted to say to break the boy out his daze yet it would be a waste for he wouldn't see that expression again.

"Ehh... what..." Tan fingers tap at the tongue and he saw red. "Oh... sorry that I did that..."

"It would have gotten infected if you didn't do that just right now, so there's no need for sorry. I was just painting something new, but when I tried adjusting the paper I got cut." He took a small cloth and finally wiped his fingers before placing the cloth back in his pocket.

"Where was I?" he tried to remember, his mind hazy from taking in his system his teacher's blood, its taste he'll never be able to forget. "Oh right. I wanted to know if you keep the old newspapers? Toshiro said you throw them away everyday."

"That's true, but not every paper. There are some in my room, but they're not arranged." _So he's starting to become wary... but the other students turned out to do the same in the end anyway._ But Ichigo started to be hesitant, possibly because he didn't want to impose by going in his chambers.

"If it troubles you to go in my room, then I'll get it myself." Ichigo couldn't say thanks, mostly because this was him suspecting his teacher and getting proof and there was no reason to say thanks unless he had good intentions.

But something thin and sharp pricked the side of his neck, and though Byakuya was too far away to be able to do that. He fainted and gave out, his body limp and motionless but still with life.

"Just when I thought I could finally have a student that would be normal. But it's inevitable. He's just a waste, so young, pure and innocent would one day be corrupted by our truth. Isn't that right, Hitsugaya?"

The silverette looked at the orange head with slight pity, but the warm eyes immediately transformed into a glare. "I know. As far as I can see, he's the only one who got much of your interest and curiosity. Losing his mother, fancying the camellias like you do, and many other things your old students don't have."

"He's like_ him_." Toshiro gasped just as he tried shifting Ichigo to a more proper lying position. "You mean..."

"Hmm. And I thought that Renji was one in a million, someone like him never to be found again. The only difference is that he's younger and more inexperienced but I can feel a part of him in this young boy. So I don't want him to know, just yet." he sounded cold but beneath there was warmth in the voice.

Anger spiked from the boy, as well as dark jealousy. He didn't hate the teen, he had no grudge at all for the orange head did nothing wrong but his jealous was so strong. "I'm jealous." he admitted.

_Bruised and battered, he walked but it cost him such pain that he couldn't even move his toes anymore. He lied down at the side of the street, without anyone caring for him or offering him anything._

_He was starving and he thought that he was going to die, but a man who became his new god saved him just by the offer of a bottle full of clear and sweet water._

Byakuya was amused enough to let out a small chuckle, and held his servant's chin so they would look. They were kneeling between the boy, who was deep in his sleep and note aware of the situation.

"I know." Their lips met, but somehow there was no emotion involved despite the fact that the silverette envied the boy for gaining his beloved master's interest.

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><p><em>Men who ran from the great mansion and retreated back to their houses may have not forgotten the tips given to them to improve their art skills but fear was all over their body.<em>

_The realization of the 'red camellias' were like bucket of sub-zero cold water drenching their whole body, keeping them awake and not allowing them to escape the nightmarish truth. **They** didn't do anything to stop them, but it was still creepy._

_Back in their own hometowns where art contests would occur, they thought that they would not be haunted again. But one by one, even at different dates, they were hunted down in the same way where only a drawing of the certain flower from the victim's blood is left behind._

_And yet it wasn't the people they feared. It was someone else whose face will be the last face they'll ever see until their blood covers their eyes while strained screams escape their torn throats._

**To be continued...**


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